


Pieces

by Clairianne



Category: Heavy Rain
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blake is almost patient, Depression, Developing Relationship, Drug Addiction, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I wrote it 5 years ago, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Norman is depressed, Norman is struggling and Blake is forgiving, Not Beta Read, Self-Destruction, also don't ask me too much, also very emotionally withdrawn, and fails, but also hurt, but he tries, but it's also comfort I swear, but just now decided to upload it, idk don't ask me, they slept together but then start relationship but it's not that easy, very poor idea of rehab
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:21:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26217814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clairianne/pseuds/Clairianne
Summary: Norman Jayden liked to think he’d got his life under control (at least, in the outside).
Relationships: Carter Blake/Norman Jayden
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	Pieces

Norman Jayden liked to think he’d got his life under control. 

Regardless of the situation, there was always some previously prepared plan in his head, some solution considered. He was certain there was nothing incalculable which could happen in his everyday life. 

Even at work, which was usually full of random occurrences, he was in control. ARI helped, of course, but even without it Norman’s analytic brain was always calculating, predicting most of the situations with surprising precision, allowing him to be prepared. 

It was his way of living, trying to avoid what's avoidable.

Sometimes, even if very rarely, it just wasn’t the case.

Waking up in the unfamiliar bed wasn't part of any plan he'd had, ever. 

He was gaining consciousness slowly, blinking lazily a few times. The sun coming through the window was in the wrong angle, and the bed itself felt too soft for being the one he usually slept in. 

_Something’s wrong_ , his brain concluded with a sudden spurt of awareness. With a second, he got to the sitting position and looked around the room.

 _Jesus Fucking Christ._

Of course the first thing he saw was that goddamn blue shirt. 

_Of course_ he was in Blake's bedroom. 

Totally naked.

Now _that_ was something he wasn’t prepared for. 

He didn't have any clue how all of that happened. He had been working with Carter for more than a year, and was painfully aware of the fact that half that time their partnership had been a disaster. They worked together, but never cooperated. Their tempers couldn’t be more different. They couldn't communicate unless it was arguing.

But then, they solved the Origami Killer Case, with great success. The boy was alive, his father, too. 

Norman had killed two people. One to save Carter's life. 

At first sight, nothing had changed. They're arguing, they're always insulting each other, the rare conversations without curses so very scarce between them…

Norman knew it's just that part of the history. The part he was comfortable sharing with the world. 

Other side was all of those things he wasn’t able to say aloud.

Like the fact that Carter had been wrong once and still regretted that. They weren't talking about it, never mentioning it even during the worst of the confrontations, but Norman knew. 

He wasn’t a FBI profiler only from the name.

Norman knew that Blake acknowledged his mistake. That day in the warehouse. He knew he had chosen the wrong side of truth.

And to be fair, Norman would lie if he’d said he hadn’t changed, too. 

It hadn't been his first case, but had been the most damaging. He was less impulsive, more impassive. He talked less, giving up more and more with every altercation.

And he had been tired. Bone deep, incessantly tired.

Norman knew a lot had changed between them, too. He noticed, sometimes, how Blake looked at him across the police station. There wasn't anger there, anymore. It was replaced with some kind of pity, emptiness and something like... caring. 

Something.

They hadn't been working together all the time, which was good for Norman’s wellbeing. He got a lot more paperwork, wasn’t granted a leave, and Carter went back to his own cases. 

Norman still didn't know why he had stayed. 

He just did.

  
  
  


And now, where was he? In Carter's bed. Well rested for the first time in years. 

How did he even get there?

It shouldn't have happened. But it did. Somewhere very deep in his heart, Norman wasn’t even surprised. He was there the evening before, when they had their last altercation. 

They had been arguing, as always. It was something about the case they had been working together at that time. A drug dealer killing their suppliers, a case more complicated than it looked on the surface. 

They had been stuck in a deadlock, Jayden had needed more informations, so he went to get them. Alone. Then, he was nearly shot.

Carter had been mad at him, more than usual. They had shouted at each other for more than an hour, spitting words and curses around the police station. Norman had been so tired he hadn’t held back anything. 

He said something, something he knew was true to him more than anything else in life. The case was always a priority. Always more important than his own life. 

Blake didn’t like it, one bit.

It had been their normal argument, except of all the ways it hadn’t been. They worked together for the first time in a few months. They had been restless, tired. After a while some things kept deep inside their minds were harder to hide.

The words, shouted with not enough thought put into them, brought more raw emotions than ever before. With every _I’m scared_ , there was another _you just have just trusted me_. 

And then _I was scared I’m gonna lose you!_ shouted with barest fear in Blake’s voice, making everything between them painfully real. 

One thing Norman didn't remember how it had started. One moment he had wanted to punch Blake straight in his majestatic nose, and the other... 

They had kissed. Violently, without finesse, stumbling on Norman’s messy desk. Holding on whatever part of each other’s body they could get the fastest. 

Norman remembered he hadn't thought _Why on earth am I kissing Carter Blake?_ which should be the first thought. As he knew it was something meant to happen. 

_It’s good we're kissing in my shabby office, not Carter's desk, in front of the entire station,_ he thought instead, his hands finding their way under Blake’s jacket.

Still, Norman brightly recalled he had been the one to stop for a moment, look at Blake with a hammering heart and desperation, and whispered _Take me home._

Carter had done just that. 

They neither spoke nor looked at each other until they had reached Carter's house. At the exact moment they reached the front porch, they had been into each other, reaching and tasting and trying to find the path towards the bedroom.

The only thing Norman remembered was the rain outside and the burning need to touch and make sure it was real.

Everything that had happened between them was so full of contradictory emotions, Norman couldn’t put his mind around it. There had been anger, but it hadn't been painful. They hadn't been talking, but they had been staring. And they kissed a lot. Deep, passionately, with desperation . 

After that, they had lied next to each other, boneless and covered in sweat, weirdly satisfied. 

After that, Carter had said, _Never do that to me again._

And Norman had replied simply _I won’t_.

  
  
  
  


And now, Norman was there. He had sex with the most irritating and helplessly arrogant person in the entire universe, and didn’t even run away just after that. 

The most frightening thing for Norman was the fact that he didn’t feel he made a mistake. He was content. He didn’t regret a thing. 

He was nervous, but relieved. 

Lying on that bed, completely distracted by everything that had occured, Norman realised that somewhere along the line, he had caught feelings for Carter Blake. 

_Feelings._

_That_ scared him to death. 

He knew he couldn't just sit there all day and think. He also knew he had no idea what to do and how to act. Especially facing Carter.

Like nothing happened? 

Like it was a mistake? 

Or like it was something which will change their lives forever?

He tried to brush his fringe with his fingers, but it was too tangled to even move. He didn’t know what to do with the fact that Blake liked to pull and Norman liked to be pulled. 

Unfamiliar warmth spread over his insides. 

He needed to talk to Blake, that was the plan.

He was relieved and happy at the same time that Carter wasn't lying in bed next to him. Was he giving him some space or prefered not to look at Norman ever again? 

Thinking about that was making Norman feel even more lost.

He would never say this aloud, but when he put his boxers and pants on (he didn't have any clue where his shirt was) and finally decided to go downstairs, he felt anxious. He just had no plan to know what to do. 

Exiting the bedroom, he immediately heard Carter’s annoyed voice from the kitchen. He made his way toward the sound and the undeniable scent of freshly prepared coffee.

"Ash, for fuck’s sake, how many times do I have to repeat myself... I won't, be in the fucking station, 'till evening," Norman was happy that at least this time, he wasn’t in the receiving end of that annoyed anger. 

When he came closer, he saw Carter standing next to the coffee machine. Back to the door, wearing only some old t-shirt and boxers, fingers hitting the machine buttons with too much force.

The domesticity of the sight made Norman’s heart ache.

"Listen... just once in your life _listen to me_! Right now, I’m trying to do something important with someone important and I really. Don't. Want. To mess this up! Definitely not by listening to you,” the resigned sigh ending the sentence was enough to make Norman smile. “ We both know well you can handle it by yourself, so don’t be a lazy shithead and go to work! I DON'T CARE. NO, THAT IS NONE OF YOUR GODDAMN BUSINESS! I'M HANGING UP RIGHT NOW, DON’T TRY TO CALL AGAIN!" the phone was put on the counter with too much force, and Blake stood without a move for a second, breathing heavily. “Lord help me…” he finished. 

Norman was just standing there, watching how Carter tried to calm himself. He felt his cheeks burning; he couldn’t believe that he had heard what he thought that was. 

And Blake, illuminated by the harsh rays of sun in the small kitchen, looked surreal. Like in a dream. 

Did he even want to wake up?

It was important for both of them. That was something. 

Norman braced himself and entered the sunlight kitchen. The same moment Carter turned, linking their eyes together. He looked better than ever, Norman decided. Younger, emotions bare on his face. 

Norman really wanted to be able to see him like that more often.

He sat in the opposite of Blake and got the hot coffee. No milk, no sugar, just how he liked it. That Blake remembered, was one of those small things making his heart lighter.

"I wanted to bring the coffee to the bed, but Ash had to prevent me from doing this with his stupid reports filling, that fucking moron. Not today, shithead," Norman had to laugh at that mumbled accusation, seeing how the words had no venom in them. 

"Thanks. It’s very nice," he smiled onto the coffee cup, inhaling the glorious beverage. 

For a long moment, they were just watching each other and drinking. Jayden tried to find any words in which he could’ve started, but his ability to talk just defeated him.

"Who would predict that, huh?" Blake was first to talk. It was a peculiar thing to say, but Norman nodded. Nobody could. "I hope you aren't expecting me to tell you that I regret yesterday. Because if so, then fuck you," the sentece was spoken quieter, but with force.

Norman covered his smile with a mug.

"I think you did it just yesterday," he deadpanned. Carter snorted.

"You’re a piece of shit, you know?" he said with a smirk, but after a second he got serious. “You shouldn't expect some romantic shit, either. I’m not good at that. I can only say things I'm perfectly sure of."

"If so, continue," Norman was watching how Blake stood up and changed a place to sit next to Norman, their knees touching. 

"You're the weirdest and the most irritating person in the entire world, and trust me, I know a lot of them. We're having our stupid argues and different opinions at every subject, but... Fuck, Norman. I'm not regretting this, please don’t force me to regret this,” Norman couldn’t stop looking at that so familiar face, usually twisted with anger, now completely open, almost vulnerable. “I can't... forget about you and everything we've been through together, and things I've done to you... I have been an asshole all my life and everything I get in exchange is you, saving my life... and i still couldn't believe you then, which I will regret to the end of my life. I know that we’re weird together, but at the same time… we’re good. So good, you see that now right? And I... I want to try. To get to know you. Try to understand you better and... and change, for both of us. I… fucking need that. I need... You. Like... You know,” he stopped, suddenly shy. 

Norman just looked at the older man like enchanted. He knew he stared stared, at those steel and burning cheeks, and realised that he wanted. 

The only thing he could think of was to put one of his hands on Carter’s cheek and kiss him lightly.

"It won’t be easy,” he murmured after a moment, trying not to sound shaken.

"The hell it will,” he got in the reply, and smiled lightly. “But we're adults, Norman. I know you are fucked up as hell... But I am too. We can try and make this right. Try, at least... To not regret later.”

"Yeah. I think we can.” 

Blake just smiled, in that sunny kitchen. 

  
  


It was the first time Norman had seen that open and sincere smile. 

It was the first time when he thought he was in love.

  
  


**

  
  


As it turned out, they weren't good at all the 'couple' thing. 

They had never been that type of people who were bothered with love before. Norman was never interested in relationships. He had tried twice at the university, but it wasn't too absorbing. Being always busy, he gave up and hadn’t felt it missing. Blake, on the other hand, had never had any luck in love. He had lived his life from one night-stand to the other, scared of broken hearts and messy endings. 

Until now.

It was hard for them to try and build something they didn't know and understand.

They were trying to do this on their own terms. Blake was yelling at Norman to finally go home when he stayed as the last one in the police station. 

Jayden reprimanded Carter when he was acting like a total jerk.

When the case was solved, they were always coming back together to Blake's place, to celebrate and burn the excess of adrenaline with the physical intimacy they were good at. The next day, they usually spent the time in front of TV, eating takeout and making out like teenagers. 

Norman had never spent time like that in his entire life, so he was pleasantly surprised how easy and nice that was.

At work, they were still arguing. Still cursing at each other. Still giving themselves a hard time cooperating. The duality of the relations made Norman often doubt the decision of trying.

After weeks, there was no closeness between them. They didn't hug or talk about the problems. 

And Norman knew it was all his fault. 

More often than not, Norman was leaving in the middle of the night without a word. He would end the conversation abruptly if it started to get personal. He wouldn’t allow Carter to kiss him anywhere outside of his house.

Norman could feel, sometimes, Blake’s sad gaze on him. He could feel that when the man had a worse day, he was silently pleading for some warmth or at least a conversation.

Norman couldn't give him that, which usually ended with them spitting curses on each other and had silent days to no end. 

And Norman was scared. He felt, deep down, that he wanted nothing more to open his heart and mind to the man, and gave him all the things he knew they both desperately needed. He couldn’t convince himself that feelings, sharing emotions with each other wasn’t a weakness. 

His parents, and then his superiors, had always shown how making things personal was doomed to end with tears and loss. 

And being weak was the last thing he could ever allow himself to be.

So he fought with the pain in his heart every time he saw the betrayal in Blake’s eyes, and turned his head around. 

_Next time, it will be easier to leave_ , he told himself, every time. 

It never was.

**

Norman Jayden had never forgotten anything. 

His brain was like an enormous notepad and calendar combined, with all the dates and experiences chronically catalogued. He had always known what he had done a year, month, a week ago, and what he would do the next month. 

Everything in his life was in perfect synchronization.

But then, the age of Origami Killer had begun. He hadn't had the time to remember anything more than _the boy needing to be rescued_.

When he achieved that, all of the new things he had never thought about started to forefront. Like, tons and tons of the red tape (which in Boston he didn't have to worry about), never ending press conferences, constantly changing crew he needed to get along and, generally, pushing away his constantly growing fondness towards Blake.

That last part had been consuming him the most. It was really hard being devoted to the case a bit, but not wholly. 

Still being afraid of the consequences.

There were moments, short and intense in its nature, when he wanted to give all of his heart to Blake. 

Moments when they were driving to the crime scene together and while having polite conversations, Norman had to bite his tongue so as not to compliment Carter or say how nice it was to spend any alone time together. 

Or those when they found some time to have lunch together and Norman couldn’t think of anything nicer to do but to take and hold Carter’s hand in his. 

Or when they lied together after the night spent together and Norman had to force himself to get up and dress, when his body screamed to stay in Carter’s arms forever.

And those moments were the worst. Every time Norman came to his empty apartment in the middle of the night, still remembering the touches and closeness, the forgotten nightmares came. 

Then, he always woke up with tears in his eyes and permanent fear in his heart, and had to force himself not to call Blake and spill all the secrets and fears and beg for forgiveness and any substitute of love he could get.

He couldn't manage to ask Carter for anything, any of those times. Even though his attachment to the man only grew and if he asked, he could have everything. 

Norman was scared. He was always, constantly scared.

  
  


Then, it turned out that there were things he forgot about. 

One phone call from Boston was enough to remind him. Remind him about people he actually worked to, things he needed to do to still be able to be that famous and invincible FBI agent everyone knew and feared. 

How could he forget? How did they allow him to forget for more than a year?

They remind him, though. One phone call, few questions and one command. That was the time to restore everything they put off for so long. 

And Norman knew that when, _if_ he ever came back, nothing would be the same.

When he remembered, he realised that not getting too close to Blake was the right thing to do. The nightmares were true, and would become reality in just a short moment, and he knew that it was so much better not to bring Carter through that with him. 

It’s better, and safer, to be alone.

Still, the night before his departure, Norman asked Carter for all the forbidden things. He came to Carter, very late at night, and asked to stay the night. 

He told Blake that he needed to go back to Boston, to reckon with the old bosses, to stay there a month, maybe more and then maybe come back, if there’s still some place for him.

He saw the visible hurt in Carter's eyes, listened to annoyed _I thought we’re in this together, why wouldn’t you tell me you’re going back?_ and plead, prayed he made a good choice.

He was still allowed to curl up in Carter's bed and got himself a bit of oblivion, feeling calloused hands to caress his hair and giving him warmth he hadn't felt for ages. At that moment Norman knew that he could really get everything he had ever wanted, if he just asked. 

He tried to remember that feeling, not the worried eyes he felt on himself for the entire night.

When he woke up the next morning he could only feel emptiness. He understood why he protected himself from getting too close before; the pain he felt getting up from a very safe and very warm embrace to the necessity of leaving was too much to handle.

**

The real world, it was cruel. Reality slowed the passing time and extended one month to the time capable of containing infinity. Reality only asked questions, not giving any answers back. Requiring sacrifices, not giving certainty. Providing nightmares and aims not capable of reaching.

Leading to destruction.

But Norman started to remember all of that. This emptiness, cold and sleepless nights. Voices, scrapes of images and emotions. Work, sacrifices, no time to sleep. Excess of work, abuse of ARI, the line reality and fiction blurred to the point of being just the same.

Finally, the breakdowns and cyan, smooth substance in a small flask. 

Triptocaine. It always helped, making all his senses sharpened and future not that important.

It would be blood, later, but it wasn't an issue now. 

That was the price he paid for the silence in his head. 

Norman almost forgot why he didn’t want to stay in Boston for longer in the first place. One month was enough for Old Norman to be back.

The one with grey bags under his eyes, no memories of smile, and unrestrained want for oblivion. 

The one who laughed miserably when he saw Blake, waiting for him in the sunny airport. 

And Blake looked better than he remembered, with a long, black coat and black, leather gloves, smoking cigarette and pulling off his sunglasses. 

For a moment, he wanted to run and hug him tightly and scream for help, but he knew just then that he didn’t deserve any of that.

Norman was almost surprised that their first conversation was a wrangle. 

Almost, because his brain remembered that better than the good things. That was the familiar territory.

And when Carter was asking _What the hell is wrong with you?_ or _What happened there?_ , his mouth said _Nothing is wrong, it's real me_ , with a grimace which supposed to be a smile. He hoped, in the deep of his heart, that Carter would see that he was pleading for help, like so many times before, that Carter knew his demons were hungrier and more vile than ever before... he hoped that the fear was visible in his eyes.

That one time, Norman Jayden hoped it would be visible how scared he was.

But after a while, he realised that maybe Carter hadn't seen anything. 

Maybe he wasn't as smart as Norman though he was. Days had passed, became weeks, and they were still arguing. Still couldn't find that thing which once connected them. Blake stopped asking what happened, just looked at him with betrayal written on his wrinkled face.

Norman knew, again, that it was all his fault. He was susceptible to addictions. And he couldn't permit himself to have more than the blue one, always laying in his pocket.

Love was addictive. Very much so. And maybe it would be a more pleasurable way to be sick, but more complicated. 

He had enough complications as it was. 

There were still times when Jayden was feeling Carter’s gaze on himself when he's not looking, as he did all that time before. He asked, after a while, with voice almost pleading, for Norman to come back home with him.

But Norman couldn’t. 

Every night, he came home from work as late as he could without any suspicions. Without removing his clothes, he opened the ampoule with that one addiction he allowed himself to have. Just for one night, for the dreamless sleep without those piercing eyes haunting him.

Cyan doses of death. When ARI was destroying him, Triptocaine was helping him to function. When he was feeling bad, triptocaine always helped him feel better. Be at peace, even.

In small doses, it was like a miracle.

It went like that for a while. For a moment, it was enough. He worked and drowned his pain in Triptocaine, refusing to acknowledge that his eyes always find Carter in the crowded police station, and definitely not thinking about how much he missed him with every fibre of his being. 

But one day, it was not enough. One week after the last talk with Blake. Back then, they had been screaming all the things they had never said before. When Norman had told him what Triptocaine with overdose of ARI ordered him to say.

Back then, Norman had been extremely exhausted. Back then, he had said Carter needed to mind his own business. That they hadn’t needed each other at all. That Norman had been better without him.

When he had said that, he had been sure it was true. He was exhausted and in despair, and knew that he had lost everything.

Sitting in his crumpled bed a few nights later he couldn’t believe what he had said, knowing full well that he had never spoken less true words. 

But it was done. Now we could only... He needed to forget about it, about Carter. 

So he took one ampoule of the cyan mixture. 

Then another. 

And another.

It should have killed him, he wanted it to kill him, and he would embrace it with joy. 

But even death didn’t want him, and life was a better punishment for his soul. He lied on the bathroom floor with the heart beating too fast and his mind too sharp, too fast, the only thing he wanted to forget about being the only thing he had in his mind.

So, his drugged brain forced him to do the only thing he desperately tried not to do for months.

Failing a few times, barely conscious, Norman finally dialed the well known number, in the late, almost early hours of that night.

"What the fuck, Jayden?"

"I need you... I-I need you... now… to... to help me..." he only managed to say. Then the mobile slipped from his hand.

Then, there was the oblivion he so desperately wanted. 

**

Norman was lost in his mind for a long time. He was sure he was dead; everything he saw and felt assured him of that. And that was a reassuring type of death; he knew that breathing wouldn't be painful anymore, that the pain was only temporary, and after that, it will be only silence. 

And in that death, he saw people. People who he hadn’t been able to rescue, reminding himself that there were so many things he could have done better.

At the beginning, those people reminded him he wouldn’t be able to disappoint any more people. 

But the time had passed, pain was still there, and souls he constantly saw were more demanding. 

He knew all of them. All those people he had tried to save, and failed. Pieces of his life he had needed to push in the depths of his mind to be able to function from one day to another.

His first case; young girl missing, later killed by her father. He remembered the betrayal he felt at that sight, how helpless and young he knew he was.

Then, an older man being found in the swamplands in pieces, killed for the 'better cause'. 

Then, a middle aged woman killing all her friends to feel the youngest; later killing herself.

All of them were there, and he couldn't understand; why were all of them in hell? Maybe to punish him more; he knew he deserved at least that. 

But then, they start whispering. Quiet voices like the wind floating between the leaves.

_We're dead now, but there are people waiting to be rescued. You can save more than us._

_When you really want to give up, our deaths were in vain._

_That is not the lesson you needed to learn._

And finally, _It's not your time; you have something to live for. Don't give up now. Fight._

And then he remembered. He shouldn't have been dead. He thought it was peculiar that the thought making him aware of that was Carter. 

What would Blake think if he would disappear now? Should he die without apologising?

It was a surprising thing to think about while dead. 

But he did.

And then, he started to hear the voices around him, which were more real than anything he experienced during his death. 

He felt that overwhelming pain again, and that pain was real. He could place it. His head was throbbing and he was feeling like something was trying to rip out all of his veins from his body at the same time. 

He still was hearing voices, but those belonged to the living people. 

One of the voices was high and definitely bored, giving him unpleasant chills. Another was deep, also painfully tired, but angry at the same time. 

Norman tried to open his eyes, but the sharp light blinded him. 

"Norman? Are you awake?" the previously angry voice said, and he immediately remembered who the voice belonged to.

He should have stayed quiet. Should have slept all day until everyone would leave him alone.

But he blinked, and it was enough. 

And then the hell began.

It wasn’t the first time he almost overdosed, so he knew what was going to happen to him and had the plan for that.

He would stay alone with three FBI senior agents in the hospital room. One of them would be familiar, staying next to his bed every time Norman was in that condition, as well as with others who shared his fate. He would be bored and strictly take notes. Two others would ask questions and be more excited and fascinated than it would have been decent in that situation. They would write long reports and pretend they didn’t hear how disgusted Norman was hearing how exciting of a specimen he was, as the one from very few who didn’t, actually, die of overdose. There would be strict instructions on what he needed to do with this time. They would leave him then, and the new thing would.

The other questioning would start, this time from angry and lost Blake.

Norman would give everyone the answers they wanted, and then try not to be shipped to Boston again. He knew he then would have stayed silent in front of Blake, knowing too well that those men would leave the wiretapping being them, and somehow convince him to talk outside of the hospital. 

And Norman would hurt Carter once again.

First part of that was correct. There were three men, they were asking too many questions, not seeing the problem that their co-worker had almost died. They told their rehearsed _We're sorry you need to be in this position,_ and _You need a rest,_ and that was that.

Blake, on the other hand, surprised him. He looked at him for a long time, disappointed and tired.

"You need to be able to walk straight before I'll take you home. Till then, sleep and try not to fucking die again," he said, and left.

And returned every evening he was in the hospital, trying to be polite and ask about Norman's health, which was a huge thing for him to do. 

Norman almost sympathized, knowing how much Carter hated hospitals and despite that, always coming back to try being worrying boyfriend/partner/whatever they were to each other.

Norman was feeling well all the time in hospital, drugged and pleasantly taken care of. Problems started on the road to Blake's home, when he was sitting in the cold car, listening to the rain outside. 

His mind was clear, pain sharp as knives. Everything started to hurt and his brain started to process the information. 

What he had done. Why he almost lost his life. 

That Carter still didn’t know anything and yet wanted him in his house and cared enough to be with him all that time.

And Norman Jayden wasn't stupid. He knew he should still keep his mouth shut and not say a word about his life. 

He should have ended his life properly or disappeared from Carter’s life.

But then, when he was sitting in the silence of the car, Blake put his hand on his arm, and squeezed lightly, without a word. 

At that moment, something in Norman broke.

He thought that maybe, for the first time in his life, he could trust somebody and be a little selfish.

He came to Carter's home in silence. He tried not to be surprised seeing their things in the men's bedroom. 

Be sat on a sofa and listen to Blake's monologue without a word.

"I fucking knew you're and selfish asshole, I can give you that,” Carter started, wiping his tired face with his hand, wrinkles more visible than ever, and Norman’s heart ached to touch and try to wipe that worry off his brow. “I also knew that if you’d be addicted to something, it had to be some weird shit, like nothing normal people would take; you being a fucking drama queen and all. But I didn't know that you're a suicidal dickhead with no brain,” Norman agreed, so he didn’t say anything to that. “I was thinking about all the fucking nights you were half dead... And I reached some conclusions. Like that I'm pissed that you didn't give a shit about what _I_ would feel when you suddenly... do what you did. And don't even start with that _'I told you I'm better without you'_ shit, because, as we all know, it's bullshit in your performance. And I _know_ you didn't think that.” 

Norman looked at him with wide eyes, desperately trying to put off the hope warming him from the inside. 

“But still, you're an asshole,” Carter continued. “And I decided I would try to find another way to your stupid brain. Because, for some fucked up reason, I'm fucking heartbroken when I see you like this and care about you too much, not getting anything back… So, if I'm not enough, I thought about only thing you really care about. If you thought, just once, about how you fucking want to 'save the humanity' when you are dead? I don't think there are more stupid shits like you out there who really can do this. So, when not for me, just try to fucking live through the rehab for the all fucking humans," he finished, and Norman, for the first time in the entire life, felt stupid.

So for a moment, he looked at Carter without a word, digesting everything he just heard, and then he did only thing he could think about (and one he definitely knew couldn't screw up); he kissed Carter long and tried to stop his heart from burst when Carter kissed him back, and then told him everything about the triptocaine, about the FBI, and ARI, and his life as an agent. 

The conversation was long and painful, but for the first time in his life, Norman Jayden was totally selfish and honest.

He spoke about his emotions, too. About why he was scared of living himself to Carter. About his problems with intimacy and his difficulties with words. How he wanted to do things right.

After that, Carter took him in his arms and Norman cried for the long time, totally bare and exhausted. 

He stayed in Carter's home. He started the most difficult rehab in his life. No meds, no doctors. Only free will and painkillers. For the first time, he really wanted to end it with a triumph. He was prepared for the cold sweats, nausea and killing migraines. He knew he would have bad and awful days, and that there would be only a few rays of hope.

What he didn't know was that Carter was prepared, too. 

When Norman was at his worst, seeing things, cravings for triptocaine and acting like a total asshole, Blake just left him be. Alone, with tears and whispers of memories which wouldn’t go away, he was miserable. 

When Norman was on his better days, still having terrible headaches and tears silently running down on his cheeks, Blake stayed with him all the time he could, shielding him from the world in his arms, whispering reassuring nothings into his ear.

And Norman realised what he missed in his life before. He realised he felt better when he could be close to someone, to share the troubles and pain. That he felt safer knowing Blake was close, but also wanted to be the one giving the man the same safety back. 

He even found himself smiling one day when he was lying in the tight embrace, listening to Carter’s stories about work while having his hair petted. 

It took him countless nights in a cold bed with unreal fears and blood in the covers to understand that sharing the pain with someone who loved you is a privilege not many can have.

One night, when he was trying to go to the toilet to throw up alone and end up in the cold tiles, he finally understood that grumpy and mean Carter was way better than no Carter. 

But Carter was always close, even if sometimes grumpy or exhausted. Norman could finally stop being worried about it.

**EPILOGUE**

Trying to glue every broken piece of Norman together was a hard thing to do, and Carter Blake was sure of that from the beginning. He was also determined. He had met Jayden at the time he hadn't been whole already. 

But every time Carter saw even the smallest of those beautiful pieces connecting, he knew that the 'whole' of him needed to be the masterpiece.

He had been angry at himself at first, that such broken thing had been taking control over his life. He had tried to do something about it, to hate, maybe destroy it entirely, but the more he had pushed, the more that thing occupied his heart.

And finally, one day, he had thought he could give it a chance. He had promised himself he would try to do everything to put every little piece together to see that whole.

There were too many days Carter thought he didn't want to fight more. He wanted to leave everything behind and just rest. But then, there were times when he had seen some pieces connected with each other and God, that was breathtakingly beautiful.

He didn't remember how much time had that cost. How many grey hairs or hours in the police gym just to give vent to all of frustration.

He instantaneously forgot about all the bad and ugly one autumn weekend, way over month into Norman’s rehab, when he woke up really late. 

Everything was the same as always those past months, when Norman had tried to fight with his addictions, except the bed next to him was empty. 

Norman hadn't had the strength to even stand up lately, so Carter immediately became worried.

He found Norman a few minutes later. 

The door to the patio was opened and Norman was sitting on the bench, legs crossed and fingers laced around the coffee mug. He was wearing Carter's sweater, definitely too big to his lean arms, his eyes looking at the grass covered with raindrops.

"Why aren't you in bed?" Blake asked, sitting next to him, trying to force his heart to stop pounding, not wanting to admit how worried he was.

"You were sleeping so peacefully, I thought you deserve a little more sleep,” Norman said simply, moving closer to Carter and giving him coffee with a smile. 

His voice was quiet, but clear. He looked at Carter with soft joy around his bright eyes. 

"How are you feeling, then?"

For a moment, he just smiled. Around them, the only sound was a quiet pitter patter of autumn rain falling down the roof. 

"Honestly?" Norman said, and the older man could just watch the beautiful sparks in his eyes. "Now, I'm feeling more peaceful and happy than ever in my life," he finished, closing the space between them and giving Blake the sweetest, coffee-tasting and mind-blowing kiss in his entire, bitter and ungrateful existence.

And that day he saw the new, weird, smiling, lively Norman, with things to do, words to say, dreams to come true and plans, closely related to Blake, to accomplish. He even could tease the younger man a few times, and get some snarky remarks in return. 

Even if at the end of the day Norman could only lay in front of the TV, he made content noises when Carter was placing small kisses in the back of his neck. Their fingers were laced together, and Norman was dozing off, a smile constant on his lips. 

Blake couldn’t remember the last time he was so happy.

At some point in the evening, Norman would turn to face Carter and ask:

"What are we going to do now?”

And Blake would be startled.

"I thought you could just move in here, with me. You spent all your bloody time here anyway... What are you even thinking? That you can be here when you're sick, but when you're okay you just fucking run away? No no, my friend, don't you even think about it..." and he wouldn't finish, because he would see Norman's eyes widened in shock, and would hear almost inaudible _I fucking love you_ and be kissed desperately for next hours just to know that the future would be difficult and odd, like them both, but everything would be worth it. 

And all the beautiful fragments would be intact. 

**Author's Note:**

> [ Just look at that amazing piece my friend Karina drew for the ending of that story ;;; it's so wonderful!!](https://fonmuller.tumblr.com/post/627991097187188736/pieces-clairianne-heavy-rain-archive-of-our)


End file.
